Home Is The Sailor

There is another literary (or perhaps “trashy” is the word, but who cares?) love of mine to which I am wholly devoted, and it pains me that I’ve gone this long without addressing it here. That love is the old fashioned hardboiled crime novel. Whether we’re talking about a heist, a detective piece, or just a depressing and film noir-esque look at someone spinning out of control, chances are good that I’ll love it. (Well, provided it’s well written, but that should go without saying.)

Hard as it is for me to admit, during my teens I went through a rather long phase in which I hardly read for fun at all. (Sigh… I know.) But then it was the works of Dashiell Hammett–from whom I moved on to Raymond Chandler–that brought me back into the fold, so to speak. I’ll elaborate on those masters at length later on, I’m sure, but for now I’m going to tell you about one of my favorite lesser-knowns.

However, before even getting to that, I want to make sure that everyone knows about the Hard Case Crime books. The idea behind the line, in a nutshell, is to release neglected old crime novels, as well as new ones that hint at that older style, on a monthly basis with beautiful (and often lascivious) old school flavored cover art. I’m actually part of the book club and get each one mailed to me. I haven’t read them all, but I’ve burned through a very good portion of them, and was only genuinely disappointed once.

Anyway, onward to one of my absolute favorites: Day Keene’s Home Is the Sailor.

Technically speaking, the story of Swen “Swede” Nelson, is a pretty conventional one. A sailor who’s fought and debauched in just about every grungy seaport in existence, Swede just wants to gather up his savings and go buy a farm somewhere.

Do I even need to tell you that it isn’t that easy?

A woman comes into the picture, of course, and we get that nice old trope of the genre stipulating that a desirable enough woman can get a man who’s only just met her to do any sort of outlandish thing–mostly on the strength of his own lust. (Maybe I’m revealing too much about myself here, but I can generally empathize with male protagonists who are doomed by such things.) It’s a pretty short novel, and I really can’t get too into the plot without heavy spoilers… needless to say, some sh*t goes down.

But here’s the thing, none of that comes across as cliché, it just makes the book feel like a perfect example of what we want and expect from the genre. It all comes together so wonderfully, and the protagonist’s narration hits that smarmy/cynical/world-weary/almost-poetic note pitch-perfectly. Even better than that, though, is the emotional resolution to the book’s central relationship–all I’ll say, is that if you’ve read alot of hardboiled novels it won’t be what you expect. This book ends in a way that is not only affecting, but also can’t be read into as a recrimination of female sexuality… unlike most femme fatale stories.

Like all Hard Case books, Home Is the Sailor can be bought for a measly seven bucks–you’ll have it finished in a day, but it’s a great read.